


Got Me On A Cliff's Edge

by dontflipyourlyd



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontflipyourlyd/pseuds/dontflipyourlyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rule 63 Courferre Fake Dating College AU that nobody (except for Elle) asked for. </p>
<p>Courfeyrac is practical and yet irrational, and Combeferre has bad breath in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Me On A Cliff's Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lenaballena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenaballena/gifts).



> Only Courfeyrac's race is mentioned in the fic, but I headcanon Courfeyrac as Hispanic and Combeferre as Indian.

**Jeanne Combeferre** : [One Picture Attached]

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** oh god i can explain

**Jeanne Combeferre:** Is there something you need to tell me?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : okay see here’s the thing

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** at christmas grandma was like “are you dating anybody?” and i was joking around and i said your name

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : and apparently she didn’t get that i was joking?? so yes there is a facebook status now

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** and i am so fucking sorry

**Jeanne Combeferre:** No need to apologize… Have you explained it to her yet? Or any of our friends who saw and liked the post congratulating our relationship?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : uh. no?

**Jeanne Combeferre** : Why not?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** because it’s fucking embarrassing

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** i mean it’s bad enough that my grandma is facebook friends with all of my friends and now she thinks that we’re dating

**Jeanne Combeferre** : Truly a travesty.

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : can’t we just go along with it

**Jeanne Combeferre:** Why would we do that?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : the ultimate prank?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : you can get back at bahorel and feuilly for hiding their relationship for months

**Jeanne Combeferre** : By pretending to have done the same thing?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** ...yes?

**Jeanne Combeferre:** Do you really want to do this?

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** yes

**Antoinette Courfeyrac:** don’t you love me

**Antoinette Courfeyrac** : i will never ask you for anything else ever again

**Jeanne Combeferre:** I doubt that’s true.

**Jeanne Combeferre:** I’ll do it.

-

Combeferre stood outside of Courfeyrac’s dorm building, sweat-moistened palms hidden in her coat pockets. She felt her phone vibrate, saw that Courfeyrac had texted “coming hold on,” and a moment later the door opened with a loud metallic squawk.

“Hello, girlfriend,” Courfeyrac said, grinning at Combeferre. Even after three years of close friendship, Combeferre still had to smile when she saw the Hispanic girl grinning at her. However, longtime exposure had allowed her to make the response slightly more dignified than the face-splitting grin she was compelled to give. Instead, Combeferre’s lips curled up in a soft smile, her eyebrow raised to add a hint of exasperation. “Hi,” she said. “You know, we can go in there and tell everybody it’s been a joke. We don’t have to do this.”

“But then all of my creative storytelling skills will go to waste,” Courfeyrac said, lower lip jutted out in a slight pout. “I have so many stories about how we’ve been making out in secret corners for a year, and how we almost got caught by everybody in the room, and how you forgot our six-month anniversary-”

Combeferre raised both of her eyebrows. “How did I forget?”

“Exams and papers. You were in Abnormal Psych, remember?” Courfeyrac rubbed at her arms, even though they were covered in her reindeer sweater. “Come in, let’s go. I’m freezing.”

Combeferre obeyed, following Courfeyrac into the dorm building and letting the door shut behind her. “I wouldn’t forget.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because this is my relationship we’re talking about,” Combeferre said. “I think I’d take it seriously.”

“Forgetting things doesn’t mean you don’t take things seriously,” Courfeyrac said. “It just means that you had other things on your mind. Speaking as the one in the quote-unquote “relationship” who isn’t ace/aro-”

“What? I’m not ace/aro.” Combeferre stopped climbing the stairs, resting her free hand on Courfeyrac’s arm to make her stop as well. “Why did you think I’m ace/aro?”   
Courfeyrac frowned. “Wait. You aren’t?”

“No,” Combeferre said. “Bi-demi.”

Courfeyrac looked at Combeferre, her eyes flickering with something that Combeferre had never seen Courfeyrac directing at her before, like a combination of hunger and hope. “Oh,” was all she said.

“I’ve been in relationships before,” Combeferre said. “And I never forgot an important date. No matter what was going on in my life.”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said again.

The door on the landing opened and Musichetta stood in the doorway to the suite, hand on her hip. “My sweethearts  were too chicken to come make sure you two weren’t making out on the way up here.” There were sounds of protest from Joly and Bousset from further inside the suite, but neither of them appeared to directly refute her claim. “Jeanne, get in here. Antoinette wasn’t sharing shit about your affair until you showed up, and now we can actually get some details.”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre turned to each other. “Lead the way,” Combeferre said.

-

Courfeyrac landed on the couch beside Combeferre, curled to face Combeferre with her arm resting on the back of the couch. Her intense eye contact with the side of Combeferre’s face made the other girl look up from scrolling through her Twitter feed.

“Can I help you?” Combeferre said.

“I’m bored.”

“What do you expect me to do about that?”

“You’re my girlfriend,” Courfeyrac said.

“I’m aware,” Combeferre said, glancing to the side to show that she was also aware of Bahorel and Feuilly sitting a couple of feet away, within earshot, playing Super Smash Bros on the suite’s television.

Faking a relationship had been easier than Courfeyrac had thought, with Combeferre having a natural ease where Courfeyrac had thought she’d have to pick up the slack. Seeing Combeferre as a girlfriend had made Courfeyrac feel warmer in her chest, less platonic than she usually allowed herself to feel around her friend. Maybe it was seeing Combeferre as her girlfriend. Maybe it was knowing that Combeferre wasn’t actually totally out of bounds for Courfeyrac.

Knowing that there was actually potential here for Courfeyrac. Knowing that there was hope.

So of course, Courfeyrac’s natural reaction to her not knowing what to do meant that she would flirt with Combeferre until she was rejected or pounced on.

Courfeyrac reached out, curling her fingers around soft hairs at the base of Combeferre’s neck where her undercut had begun to grow out shaggy. “Do you want to go back to your single?” Courfeyrac said, her tone casual and the twitch of her lips mischievous.

“Gross,” Bahorel said, using Princess Zelda to slam Feuilly’s Yoshi into space. “Don’t fucking proposition your girlfriend where we can all hear.”

“We listen to details about your sex life all the damn time,” Courfeyrac said. “Don’t think we forgot the Deadpool incident.”

“Alright, my bad. Continue whispering dirty, dirty - GODDAMN SONOFABITCH KIRBY-”

Courfeyrac turned back to Combeferre to see her laughing, mouth hidden behind her hand. Her eyes were crinkled and radiant and Courfeyrac’s stomach fluttered. Leaning in so close that her lips brushed against Combeferre’s earlobe, Courfeyrac whispered, “may I kiss you? Y’know, for the pretending?”

Combeferre turned to look at Courfeyrac, affection still brimming in her eyes, and slid her fingers through Courfeyrac’s curls, pulling her face in and kissing her carefully. Courfeyrac had been expecting to feel lightning or a hurricane or something earth-shattering if she ever got to kiss Combeferre, but instead the gentle kisses spread heat through her chest until she felt like there was fizzing champagne under her skin. She brushed her fingertips against Combeferre’s cheek, felt her gasp slightly. Her teeth grazed against Courfeyrac’s lower lip, and Courfeyrac gave a quiet noise.

“Gross,” Enjolras said, and Courfeyrac pulled away and looked up at them.

“What.”

“Look, I’m happy for you and all, that you can finally be honest with us. Or. Whatever.” Enjolras waved a hand. “But can you just not make out on our couch?”

Courfeyrac pouted. “Chetta and Joly and Bousset have probably-”

“We can go back to my room,” Combeferre said.

Courfeyrac turned back to Combeferre, heart in her throat. “You want-”

“I want,” Combeferre said. Her eyes were intent on Courfeyrac’s face and her tongue moistened her lips.

“Want somewhere else,” Bahorel said to Combeferre. “Go fuck yourself,” he said to Feuilly, who smirked as her Yoshi spit fire on Princess Zelda.

Courfeyrac stood from the couch, and Combeferre followed her, taking her hand and leading her back to where the coats were piled on a chair by the door.

-

“We don’t know who your neighbors know,” Courfeyrac had said, her voice breathless.

“Right,” Combeferre had said, her eyes on Courfeyrac’s shining lips. Courfeyrac had chosen that moment to pull her lower lip under her teeth, and Combeferre had swallowed.

“So I think you should kiss me,” Courfeyrac had said, leaning against Combeferre’s door, her head blocking the lower half of the whiteboard attached to the wood, and Combeferre had leaned down and done so.

Somehow they had made their way into Combeferre’s room and onto her bed and Combeferre had straddled Courfeyrac, her thigh between Courfeyrac’s legs, her longtime friend gasping and whining into Combeferre’s mouth. Courfeyrac’s hands worked the turquoise plaid button-up from where it had been tucked into Combeferre’s jeans, and slid up to brush her fingertips against Combeferre’s hot skin. Courfeyrac found her release from the circular pressure of Combeferre’s thick thigh against her clit and jeans, and Combeferre came thirty seconds later when Courfeyrac slid her fingers down the front of her pants.

Afterwards, Courfeyrac kicked off her sweaty jeans and pulled off her shirt, laying back down next to Combeferre on top of the now-rumpled plaid comforter. Combeferre still lay with her dark hair spilling over the pillow, dazedly staring at Courfeyrac as she slid down next to her, now just in her panties and bra.

“That was really nice,” Combeferre said, her voice groggy, as if she had just woken up.

“Very nice,” Courfeyrac said. “My clit’s still tingling. Also, I’m in love with you.”

Combeferre stared at Courfeyrac for a few seconds. “You just had an orgasm.”

“Yes, I did. We established that. Could you not tell from the noises I was making?”

“But how do you know that you love me? It could be the orgasm.”

“I know that I love you. Jesus, Jeanne, I’m a fucking adult, I know when I’m in love with somebody.”

Combeferre shook her head, then slid off her own pants, tossing them to the floor, and crawled under the comforter. “If you still love me when I have morning breath tomorrow, tell me then. That is, if you’re staying over.”

“Girlfriends stay at each other’s places,” Courfeyrac said, sliding under the blanket.

“Not girlfriends until the morning breath,” Combeferre said, her eyes closed but her arm automatically opening for Courfeyrac to curl up next to her, which she did.

“Did you forget that we’re supposed to be faking?”   
Combeferre half-opened one eye. “Right. Yes. Sorry. I don’t know what ever could have caused me to forget that none of this was real.”

Courfeyrac poked her cheek. “Go to sleep, dumb dumb. Let me smell that nasty morning breath so I can say I love you.”


End file.
